


I Close My Eyes (and See You Before Me)

by sporkmetender



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Happy Ending, I swear, Will probably become AU at some point in 5A, mentions of CS/OQ, set vaguely post 5B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporkmetender/pseuds/sporkmetender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's in love with Regina, but Regina is still in love with Robin. Definitely still in love with Robin, although he's never around when Emma comes over for a family movie night. He's not there to see the incredibly sexy "pajamas" Regina wears or the sweet smiles Emma gets, and Regina never mentions him. But he's still in the picture, which is why Emma is trying to stay away now. </p><p>She has an evening to herself, and she knows just how to use it, but Regina is making it difficult for her, with her constant texts and phone calls just when Emma is starting to get somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Love Myself (I Want You to Love Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonkeyMyS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyMyS/gifts).



> This is my very first Swan Queen fic, and my first fic in any fandom in about five years. You can thank (or blame) chilly-flame for tempting me into the Swan Queen fandom with her amazing fic, and you can thank yourselves for being awesome Swen who gradually got me more and more involved in the fandom. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Thanks are also due to MonkeyMyS for a very open-ended prompt that I could run away with. I hope you like it.
> 
> Insincere apologies to the Divinyls for shameless lyric theft in the story title and chapter titles (the reason for the song choice will soon become apparent ;).
> 
> Summary and notes last edited 10/31/15, after reveals.

Emma shut the door behind Henry and the Tillman family with a slightly guilty sigh of relief. It had been so long since she had been completely alone for an evening that she almost didn’t know what to do with herself.

Well, no, she actually did know what to do. It was just that she couldn’t believe she was finally being left alone long enough to do it. Everyone had been so glad to have her back after the physically and emotionally draining quest to save her from being the Dark One that she’d barely had five minutes of privacy in the past two months.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the outpouring of love, obviously. It had actually been…kind of unbelievably awesome once she got used to the constant physical and verbal displays of affection after being the untouchable Dark One for so long. Her parents, the dwarves, Ruby, Henry, Regina—pretty much the whole town was determined to show their (somewhat belated) appreciation for her.

The thing was, she’d hoped that moving into her own place would finally grant her some peace and quiet. Just her and Henry hanging out, being a family, healing some of the still-painful wounds from being darkness incarnate for several months, cursing everyone’s memories away (again), and sending everyone on a quest to the underworld. It was supposed to be quiet and stress-free—like New York, but with everyone they loved still available when they felt like socializing. Instead, she’d been dragged to Regina’s and to her parents’ loft—even to Ruby’s place—for sleepovers so often that she’d barely slept in her new house. And then when she did sleep at home, Henry was there too, and most nights he woke up from a nightmare of Emma still being the Dark One and came stumbling in to curl up with her on the bed, tucked awkwardly under her chin, because even boys who were now taller than their mothers still needed reassurance.

And it was great spending so much time with everyone. Really, everything about it was wonderful, a balm to her soul and all. The first couple (dozen) times.

But eventually, well—

Okay, so the most disconcerting thing about having been the Dark One was that it made it really hard to lie to yourself. Emma Swan, master of denial and avoidance, could have happily lived out the rest of her days without ever acknowledging her decidedly more than friendly feelings for Regina Mills. But the essence of the Dark One was destructive, malevolent, dominating. It had wormed its way into her soul, ferreted out all her secrets, and done its best to destroy everything she held dear. Her carefully repressed feelings were an obvious weakness, and the Dark One had taken obscene delight in prodding them at every opportunity.

The only way to keep herself from revealing those feelings at the worst possible time had been to focus all her efforts on keeping them private. Fighting the darkness had been too exhausting otherwise, and so she had allowed the curse to make her the mouthpiece of countless other unpleasant truths she would have preferred to keep quiet—not to mention a vast array of cruelly plausible untruths. Dark Swan had manipulated and then humiliated Killian, belittled and cursed at her parents, baited Robin about being constantly in need of saving until Regina had to poof him away—had, in fact, made an unmitigated nuisance of herself and exposed quite a number of Emma’s embarrassing and painful secrets. But her desire for Regina—that, she had kept locked behind sharp teeth and a sharper tongue.

The newfound realization about her feelings for Regina and the undeniably sensual thrill of dark magic and ancient knowledge had combined to torture Dark Swan with never-ending sexual thoughts and images. Especially in Regina’s presence, it only took a glimpse of cleavage or a throaty “Miss Swan!” to have Emma squeezing her leather-clad thighs together.

And while Dark Swan had had no compunction about attempting to use Killian for sex and no sense of shame about masturbating to thoughts of her son’s other mother, the same was not true for Emma. Every time she took a shower (the only alone time she got these days), she reached between her legs, hoping for a quick orgasm to keep her embarrassing hormonal-teenager levels of lust at bay. Every time, she did her best to picture someone—anyone—who was not Regina. Every time, she gave up in disgust within two minutes when Regina’s face (and sometimes other parts) was all she could see. Every time, she grew more frustrated, both physically and mentally.

They had _agreed_ , dammit. They had agreed (Regina had said, and Emma had fucking agreed, of course she had, because her actual non-Dark-One self was a fucking coward) that it was platonic.

It was so unfair that Regina was undisrupted by _it_ , still happily making doe-y eyes at Hood in spite of the—frankly ridiculous—soap-opera baby situation with Zelena. And Emma, who had lost everything, _sacrificed_ everything, was stuck in this no man’s land, unable to let go but equally unable to hold on, because Regina was not hers to hold on to. She’d gone back and forth for weeks, agonizing over every interaction, while Regina continued to act like nothing had changed. And after the other night—well, it looked like Emma had finally managed to disentangle herself, no matter how clumsily and painfully she’d done it. It could only get better from here.

Regina was welcome to continue playing the most fucked-up possible version of happy families, but Emma was done lying to herself. Even if being the Dark One had wrecked her self-image and trashed all her relationships, she had at least learned how to be honest with herself. She had lost Killian, but she had regained her sense of self, and until Regina came to the same sort of realization about how Hood turned her into the worst version of herself—well. Emma would just have to cope on her own, as she’d done for her whole life. At least now she had a family to support her.

* * *

 

Emma locked the door, lowered the blinds, and climbed the stairs to her room, stripping down to her boyshorts as she did so. She was going to reclaim her self-respect and her own headspace, starting right now. She was going to ignore Regina’s increasingly frequent cryptic texts, she was going to make the most of Henry being at a sleepover, and she was going to have an orgasm again.

Emma grinned wryly at her own masturbation pep talk. It felt more like she was marching into battle than getting ready to make herself feel good. She was actually kind of nervous about this, but she had to do it. The constant cycle of pining over Regina and beating herself up over pining for Regina had only been making her miserable. She was reclaiming her right to her own emotions, her right to have wants and needs (and orgasms—seriously, two months was way too long). She cared for herself, even if Regina didn’t care for her, or at least not in the way she wanted. She didn’t need Regina’s permission for anything. Emma squared her shoulders, slid her right hand into her underwear, and gently squeezed her outer lips together.

She let out a long, disbelieving hiss at how good it felt. Slightly astonished at her sensitivity, Emma arched into her own touch and let one hand drift down her chest. She scraped her fingernails across a nipple experimentally. Goosebumps raced down her chest and along her ribs, meeting at her shoulder blades, sending shudders down her spine and rocking her pelvis against the bed. Her nipples hardened immediately. Hot damn.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Probably Regina again. She silenced it, ignoring the text, and pulled off her underwear as she settled in to tease herself for a while.

Emma gently stroked one finger over her clit and (how was she this swollen already?) began to draw slow circles around it. Her mind naturally drifted to her latest sequence of problematic encounters with Regina, and she made the conscious decision to let it.

Regina was always so sweet when they were spending time together as a family. She made Emma hot chocolate with cinnamon (sometimes spiked, if Emma’d had a hard day), lent Emma some of her luxurious silky pajamas, and sat with her and Henry on the couch to watch whatever superhero movie the kid was obsessed with at the moment. It was delightfully domestic and boring, and Emma couldn’t get enough of it. But that wasn’t the problematic part.

The problematic part—well, the first problematic part—was that Robin and Roland were always mysteriously absent, both physically and in conversation. Emma assumed Robin was busy counting his pinecones or skinning deer or something, but his absence made it so much harder to remember that Regina was taken. That none of the family togetherness and the soft looks and the quiet companionship after Henry went to bed and the husky laughter at Emma’s stupid jokes meant that Regina felt the same way. It didn’t mean anything that Emma could feel Regina’s eyes glued to her ass or her biceps or her boobs every time she was looking the other way. It didn’t mean anything that Regina had turned pink and stuttered the one time they’d gone swimming as a family and Regina had arrived just in time to see Emma climb out of the pool in her bikini, dripping wet. It _didn’t_. Because Regina had Robin, and until that was no longer true, it _couldn’t_ mean anything.

The other problem was with Regina’s outfit choices. She always seemed to wear something slinky and revealing for these family nights. And it was really distracting when Emma was trying to ignore her romantic feelings and focus on enjoying crisis-free time with Henry and Henry’s other mom. So what if Emma wore her tightest jeans and tank tops in retaliation (and maybe flexed a little extra when she was reaching to clear Regina’s plate)? Unlike Regina, Emma was single now—she was allowed to be flirtatious and tempting.

Emma reviewed her mental catalog of all of Regina’s movie-night outfits from recent months. The woman had an astonishing variety of high-class loungewear. Emma had never seen her in the same outfit twice. How could anyone possibly need so many silk negligees with matching kimono-style robes? And why was Regina always in a nightgown when she had so many sets of relatively full-coverage pajamas to lend to Emma? But even more than the teasing glimpses of cleavage and flashes of smooth, bare thigh as Regina shifted the blanket over their laps, it was Regina’s vulnerability that really made Emma’s heart race.

Regina would never have watched movies with Emma without her normal fashionable armor even as recently as six months ago. She would never have smiled softly at Emma over Henry’s drooping head as they watched him fall asleep to the dulcet sounds of aliens destroying Manhattan. She would never have prepared the guestroom for Emma with a small arrangement of sunflowers on the dresser and the softest yellow flannel sheets on the bed—the ones that made Emma’s throat constrict with longing every time she looked at them. And she definitely would not have slowly, lingeringly leaned in and kissed Emma goodnight just outside the guestroom door, especially not right at the corner of Emma’s mouth, so that their lips brushed ever so slightly.

Emma’s lips tingled now at the memory and she moaned aloud, struggling to maintain her slow, steady rhythm when all she wanted was to fuck herself into oblivion. But she knew this orgasm was going to be incredible, and she was determined to work up to it, to let it build until she got the payoff she deserved for two months of torturous abstinence and slinky nightwear and incendiary eyesex—and that stupid _fucking_ kiss.

Regina’s latest torture device had been a sinfully soft-looking, low-cut grey camisole and matching shorts under a sheer black robe, and Emma had almost died every time Regina leaned forward for a handful of popcorn. Emma knew her breathing had been heavier than could possibly be justified by their light conversation about the evening’s movie, but goddamn that camisole was only just this side of appropriate, and Emma could have sworn she’d seen the edge of a nipple peeking through the lacy trim at one point. She’d barely been able to keep up with her side of the conversation, and her bra had felt rough and constricting where it rubbed against her rock-hard nipples. She’d hunched forward a bit, hoping to hide her body’s reaction, but Regina’s knowing smirk told her it was too late, and then Emma had finally lost it.

She’d snarled in disgust, stormed upstairs to put her street clothes back on, and fled, leaving her pajamas crumpled on top of the carefully turned-down yellow sheets in the guestroom. Of course, Regina had been lying in wait in front of the door, hoping to talk her into staying. Emma hadn’t been willing to push Regina aside by force—Dark Swan was too fresh in her memory for that—but she’d needed her space so desperately that she’d been much more blunt than usual.

“I’ve had it, Regina. I’m done with this plausible deniability flirting crap. You saved me.” She’d stepped closer, then, pressing Regina back towards the door, pointing at her accusingly.

“You _saved_ me, and we both know what it means, but you won’t fucking talk about it. You know exactly what you’re doing with the slinky nightgowns and the ogling and that damn kiss the other night.” Emma jabbed her finger into Regina’s chest, just above the edge of the stupid camisole. “You know damn well I was lying when I said it was platonic. You’re my _true love_. I’m in love with you, Regina. And you’re hanging out with me and our son two or three nights a week, cuddling, watching movies, cooking me my favorite meals, _kissing me goodnight,_ while the other nights, you’re _fucking_ your supposed soulmate. Well, I’m done. Come talk to me when you’ve figured your shit out with Robin, but until then, I only want to talk to you if Henry needs something.”

Emma had been almost panting by the end of her speech, angry and confused and already starting to feel regretful, but Regina had quietly stepped aside, head bowed, and opened the door.

That had been three days ago. Two days ago Regina had begun texting her: “I need to talk to you, Emma,” and “Please, Emma, it’s not urgent, but I need to tell you this in person,” and “For heaven’s sake, Swan, can you just grow up and talk to me for five minutes?” and “I know Henry’s at a sleepover tonight. We need to talk.”

Emma was, quite frankly, not interested in whatever rationalizations Regina was going to make. She suspected that Regina had feelings for her. She _knew_ that Regina was attracted to her. She also knew that Regina was not going to do anything about it while Robin was in the picture. So for now, Emma was just going to have to survive on microwave dinners, Charming hope speeches, and masturbation. Heck, at least she’d get to have orgasms again.

Emma finally let her fingers drift from her clit down to her opening, astonished to discover how wet she’d gotten while reminiscing about the kiss (not to mention that insanely indecent camisole from the other night). Two fingers glided effortlessly down her slick labia and back up again. Emma’s hips bucked slightly, but she kept things slow, gentle. She was not going to go off half-cocked, for once.

She eased the tip of one finger inside, gasping as she felt herself clamp down on it immediately. She flashed back to _the kiss_ , the memory of their lips brushing, the smell of Regina’s (no doubt obscenely expensive) face cream, the taste of her lipstick, the heat and warmth and love washing—

What was that banging sound? There must be somebody at the front door. Hopefully they’d just go away if she didn’t answer. She’d turned off the downstairs lights, she was pretty sure—

There was a pause. Had they left?

“Emma Swan!” came the distinctive yell from downstairs, “I know you’re home. You have fifteen seconds to open this door or I’m letting myself in.”

It was Regina. And she sounded furious.


	2. When I Feel Down (I Want You above Me)

Short of casting a barrier spell, Emma couldn’t think of a way to keep Regina from teleporting in. She was pretty sure that having Regina poof into the bedroom while Emma was touching herself would not do their already awkward relationship any favors.

Emma scrambled out of bed, magicked her clothes on, and raced downstairs, hoping she didn’t look too flushed. She flung the front door open to see Regina on the doorstep in full mayoral regalia—impeccable makeup, perfect hair, black Manolos, and a pinstriped pantsuit with her signature one-button-too-few dress shirt. This glorious vision from the past stalked past Emma into the living room and then wheeled to face her, forehead vein pounding, upper lip snarling, clearly spoiling for a fight.

Emma braced herself for the coming tirade, but Regina had frozen with her mouth half open and seemed to be staring at Emma’s hand.

Emma looked down. Her fingers were still wet. _Fuck._ She knew she had approximately two seconds to come up with an innocent reason for why her hand was visibly glistening. Her mind was completely blank, but one glance at Regina’s flaring nostrils told Emma that Regina wouldn’t believe her anyway. Shit. She had incredibly powerful inborn magic and all the magical knowledge of a former Dark One, and she _still_ forgot to cast a simple cleansing spell.

As Regina continued to stare at her, speechless, Emma could feel the blush creeping up her neck and down her chest.

“Hey,” she finally mumbled, waving weakly with her non-wet hand and rocking forward onto her toes. “What’s up?”

Regina was breathing like she’d run a marathon, her pupils were huge and fixed somewhere near Emma’s chest, and her hands were shaking. She gave every sign of being either terrified or livid, but she wasn’t _doing_ anything.

The grandfather clock ticked incredibly loudly on the other side of the room.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked hesitantly, after a long pause in which Regina still had not spoken. “You seemed like you were gonna yell at me, but you, uh, haven’t said anything yet.”

Regina shook her head slowly, seeming to come out of her stupor. She took a step toward Emma. “I broke up with Robin.” Another step.

“I wanted to tell you in person that you were right about how I was treating you. That I was playing it safe, trying to avoid making a choice.” She shrugged and shook her head apologetically. “Trying to avoid admitting there was a choice to be made.” She came another step closer. Emma couldn’t look away.

“I thought, after what you said the other day, that you would want to know that I had _figured my shit out_.” She was almost toe-to-toe with Emma now, and Emma could barely breathe. “But it’s been two days, and you haven’t responded to a single text or phone call.”

Emma backed up a step, overwhelmed by Regina’s closeness, her voice, the intensity of her gaze—the intensity of the whole conversation.

 “So I thought,” Regina said, stalking forward again, “that I would come over and make you listen to me.”

Emma took another half-step back and felt her shoulders hit the living room wall.

Regina moved forward again, propping herself against the wall with a hand on either side of Emma as she leaned in close. “But it seems that I caught you at a…bad time.”

Emma let out a noise somewhere between a squeak and a whimper and instantly bit her lip in embarrassment. Was she _twelve_?

Regina didn’t smile, exactly, but her lips twitched like she was trying not to. “What were you doing just now, Em-ma?” she asked, looking exceedingly smug. “You look…flushed.”

Emma glared at her.

Regina leaned even closer, so that her hair was tickling Emma’s exposed collarbone, and whispered into her ear. “I think I can guess, based on how delicious you smell.”

Emma shuddered. Regina was so close that the lapels of her blazer were brushing against Emma’s nipples through her tank top, and her breath against Emma’s neck was doing insane things to her heartrate.

“But that’s not why I came to talk to you, Emma,” Regina said more soberly, pulling back a little to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry that it took me so long to realize that Robin was wrong for me. That _you_ were _right_ for me. I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t return your declaration of love right away. But I’m here now.” She swallowed, hesitated, swallowed again. Emma stopped breathing.

 “I’m here now…and I’m in love with you too, you infuriating, stubborn, idiotic, beautiful woman.”

Emma let out her breath in a sudden whoosh, gave a little hiccupping sob, and then flung herself at Regina, pressing kisses all over her face and neck.

Regina staggered back half a step under the onslaught, laughing delightedly as she wrapped her arms around Emma’s waist and tugged their bodies together.

Somehow, Emma wasn’t quite sure how, they gradually progressed from the entryway to the sofa, still wrapped in one another’s arms, still kissing, but now slower, gentler, more sure of each other. Emma basked in the unexpected surety of Regina’s affection, the slow wash of heat sweeping through her body, reigniting her earlier arousal but tempering it with the sense of love, home, and belonging she had come to associate with Regina.

Eventually, Emma came back to her senses enough to notice that her right hand was still rather…sticky, and that she would really like to be able to touch Regina without messing up her clothes or her hair. Well, no, she’d totally like to mess up Regina’s clothes and hair, but Regina might not be ready for that just yet.

Emma reluctantly eased out of Regina’s embrace just as Regina was tugging at the bottom of her tank top. “I, uh, need to go, wash my hands,” she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bathroom and trying not to blush. “I don’t want to mess up your clothes or anything.”

Regina grabbed her arm just as she was about to get up. “Emma Swan, I do not care about my clothes. I will let you ruin every suit I own if it means you’ll keep kissing me.”

Emma blushed and shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just, a little embarrassing, I guess.” She looked away, picking idly at a loose thread on the fluffy pink crocheted throw Mary Margaret had given her as a housewarming present.

Regina reached out with her other hand, and Emma didn’t realize until it was too late that she was reaching for the sticky hand. “Emma,” she said. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Especially if, as I suspect, you were thinking of me while your hand got…wet.”

Emma blushed even pinker, but she maintained eye contact. “I was. I always do.”

 “Is that so?” She lifted the sticky hand to her face and slowly inhaled. Her eyes looked almost black. “Tell me more.”

Emma inhaled sharply. “Regina, unless you want me to fuck you right here on this couch, you can’t ask me questions like that.”

“But what if I do?”

“What if you do…what?”

Regina raised one eyebrow. “What if I do want you to fuck me—here on this couch or at any other location of your choosing, as soon and as frequently as possible?”

Emma’s heart immediately sped up approximately five thousand percent, but she attempted to play it cool. “Are you serious? You don’t think that’s moving a little fast?”

Regina clasped Emma’s hands and rubbed soothing circles with her thumbs. “Emma, we share a son, we’ve saved each other’s lives multiple times, I broke your curse with true love’s kiss, we’ve been flirting since the night we met, and we’ve been good friends for months. If anything, we’re moving too slowly.”

“Too slowly, huh?” Emma asked, grinning. “So I should go ahead and tell you that I haven’t had an orgasm in two months, and I was getting pretty close before you got here?”

Regina groaned—actually groaned, which might have been the sexiest sound Emma had ever heard—and lunged for Emma’s mouth again.

Her kisses, which had been warm before, now burned. Her hands, which had been so cautious before, were now everywhere at once—scratching Emma’s scalp, skimming teasingly across the crotch of her shorts, gently pinching her nipples through her tank top, slowly pushing her shorts down past her hips.

Emma gasped and writhed on the couch, feeling almost unhinged at her sudden desperation for Regina’s touch. “Oh my god,” she said, pulling away from Regina’s mouth and tugging ineffectively at her tank top where it was trapped against her by Regina’s hand and arm. “Regina, help me get these clothes off.”

Regina stopped kissing her long enough to magic Emma’s clothes and her own blazer onto the floor, and then she was touching Emma’s bare skin and Emma thought she might actually implode.

She honestly had no idea if it felt so good because of true love or just because Regina was really talented and Emma was really turned on, but she did know that she was dripping wet again and she really needed this orgasm that she’d been waiting over an hour (two months, several years) for. Regina seemed to be trying to touch all of Emma at once, and while it was sexy as hell, it was not getting her any closer to that elusive orgasm.

“Regina,” Emma whispered. Regina made an indistinct noise in between kissing her way across Emma’s collarbone. Emma figured maybe it was better just to show her. She grabbed Regina’s left hand and dragged it to her crotch, pressing gently and rocking her hips up to meet it so that her wetness coated Regina’s hand. To her surprise, Regina immediately slid off the couch and onto the floor to kneel between Emma’s legs. “Regina?” she asked, “What are you—“

“Emma,” Regina interrupted, tugging Emma’s knees apart and forward until Emma was lying splayed open before her, “Do you really want me to answer any questions right now? I think you might prefer that I do something else with my mouth at the moment.” She glanced at Emma’s throbbing cunt, licked her lips meaningfully, and then looked back at Emma.

“Please, continue,” Emma managed to say, waving Regina on.

Regina smirked at her and then she bent forward, oh so slowly, and then her tongue was sliding up Emma’s inner thigh and then it was right there right there oh _fuck,_ and Regina let out the most obscene moan and began to devour her.

Emma couldn’t speak, couldn’t focus, could barely control her motor functions. All she could do was squirm and stare at the impossible reality of Regina’s head between her legs. That was Regina’s impossibly beautiful face slick with moisture, Regina’s perfect lips wrapped around Emma’s clit, Regina’s crisp white shirt wrinkled and damp against Emma’s thighs.

How many times had Emma pictured this back when she first came to town? But back then she’d only been picturing Regina the obnoxious mayor kneeling in front of her desk, or Regina her son’s impossible other mother sprawled indolently against dark silk sheets. Never this Regina—Regina her true love.

Emma’s heart swelled with affection, and she made the supreme effort to reach out and stroke Regina’s hair with one weak hand. “I love you,” she said, and Regina lifted her head long enough to give Emma the most luminous smile and whisper “I love you too” before Emma felt fingers teasing her open and slipping slowly, gently inside. Emma’s eyes slid closed and she relaxed back into the couch. She felt more full than could possibly be explained by the presence of fingers inside her—full of love, full of warmth, full of belonging.

Regina moaned suddenly against Emma’s clit, and Emma, startled by the vibrations, moaned in response, opening her eyes again to see Regina’s shoulders contorted somewhat oddly. She leaned forward and saw Regina’s slacks undone and her other hand moving between her thighs. “Fuck, Regina, that’s so hot.”

Regina moaned again in response, and Emma bucked slightly but remained propped up on her elbows, determined to watch. She could feel herself getting close, but she could also see Regina’s hand speeding up, and that was unacceptable. “Don’t come yet,” Emma panted, even as she felt herself clenching around Regina’s fingers. “Want to taste you too.” Regina hummed an acknowledgment and Emma kept her eyes open just long enough to watch Regina’s hand slow down, then she was collapsing onto the sofa, back arched, fingers clamped onto the cushions, and Regina’s name on her lips.

“Holy shit,” Emma panted a minute or two later. Regina’s smile in response was an interesting combination of smug and loving. She kissed Emma’s thigh gently and rose to her feet, allowing her pants to fall around her ankles. Then she stripped her shirt off over her head, stepped out of both pants and shoes, and straddled Emma on the couch.

Emma cupped Regina’s chin and pulled her down for a kiss, instantly deciding that she would never get tired of tasting herself on Regina. Just as she was really getting into the kiss, Emma felt Regina’s hips begin to rock gently against her stomach and she gasped at the wetness she could feel even through Regina’s underwear.

“I made you a promise,” Emma murmured. Regina’s hips jolted. “Where would you like me to fulfill it?”

Regina slid off Emma’s lap and held out her hand to help a still-shaky Emma off the sofa “Take me to bed, Emma. I want something soft under my knees while I ride your mouth.”

“Fuck!” Emma stumbled slightly in shock, but she looked up in time to catch Regina’s sly grin before they dissolved in purple smoke and reappeared at the foot of Emma’s bed.

Regina gave Emma’s shoulders a gentle push and she fell backward onto the bed, still not quite caught up with what was happening. But Emma found, as Regina magically removed her own underwear and crawled up the bed, that she didn’t really care what was happening as long as it continued.

“You’re gorgeous,” she whispered, stroking Regina’s abdomen reverently. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

Regina leaned forward and kissed her, hard. “Oh, it’s happening, Miss Swan. No backing out now.” But she smirked to show she was joking, and Emma chuckled even as she moved her arms to let Regina crawl further up her body and lower herself towards Emma’s waiting mouth.

Regina was so wet it had dripped down her thighs, and Emma moaned as she got her first taste. She wrapped her hands around Regina’s hips and dove in, exploring every inch of Regina with her eager tongue.

Emma couldn’t get enough of Regina’s noises, of Regina’s hips moving rhythmically against Emma’s mouth, of Regina’s quiet curses when Emma sucked on her clit, of Regina’s look of ecstasy when Emma reached up to pinch her nipples. She could barely believe that this woman was her true love, that she could look forward to this view for the rest of her life.

Regina’s hips began to move so erratically that Emma had to let go of her nipples and hold her in place. Her curses were getting louder now, and higher in pitch, until she finally shrieked and convulsed in Emma’s arms, smearing her wetness from Emma’s chin to her eyebrows (not that Emma minded).

Regina eventually came to a stop, sweaty and panting, but she made no move to change positions. Her facial expression gradually went from relaxed to vaguely uncertain, and Emma thought she could guess why. “More?” she asked, deliberately brushing Regina’s swollen clit with her lips.

Regina responded with a shy smile and a toss of her gloriously mussed hair as she began to rub herself on Emma’s lips again.

Two orgasms later, Regina finally collapsed, clutching the headboard while she attempted to get her shaky legs to unbend. Seeing her predicament, Emma poofed her onto her back and then wrestled the sheet and bedspread up to cover them both. Regina tucked herself into Emma’s side, pressing her face against Emma’s neck, and made the tiniest noise of absolute contentment. Emma’s heart nearly burst with love, gratitude, happiness—a million things—but mostly love. She clutched Regina close, kissed the top of her head, and snuggled in to go to sleep. They could deal with the details in the morning.

Just as Emma was starting to drift off, she felt Regina’s body shaking silently under the covers. “What?”

Regina shook her head, still chuckling. “Two years ago, I was desperate to figure out how to get the savior to taste my forbidden fruit, when all I had to do was ask.”

Emma turned to face Regina and reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. “From now on, all you ever have to do is ask, Regina. For anything. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Regina kissed the hand that had lingered on her cheek. “Thank you, dear. And if _you_ happen to have any forbidden fruit that needs tasting, remember—I’m a savior now, too.”

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is welcome and appreciated, from kudos and "It was great" to haiku, short novels and constructive criticism. 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://sporkmetender.tumblr.com/) if you like :)


End file.
